i loved her with dark hair

anonymous asked:

can you do one where jughead gets really mad at betty and they get in a fight and hes screaming and she gets scared because he reminds her of her mom and then he realizes shes afraid and you can decide what happens from there

***

Here’s a quick little one shot

****

“Well maybe I didn’t want to go see Kevin okay?! I don’t always have to be around your friends Betty God! You never listen.” Jughead slammed the front door, shaking the entire trailer as Betty visibly jumped before turning to Jughead with disappointed eyes

“I was just trying to help juggie! Why is it that every time I try to do something nice for you, we end up in some ridiculous fight?” Betty dropped her coat on the couch

“You’re not being “nice” Betty, you’re being overbearing, per usual, and you think you’re doing the right thing, but you never are! Why can’t you see that?!“ He knew he was going overboard, he knew he didn’t mean the angry words he was saying but try as he might he couldn’t stop them from spilling out of his mouth.

"Jug..” she whispered quietly, hurt reflecting in her shiny green eyes.

“No! I’m so sick of always being the bad guy, just because you don’t agree with what I have to say. You’re wrong Betty! You’re always wrong and you don’t even see it!” He slammed his fists into the table, his eyes going wide as he looked down at the broken glass now shattered on the floor.

Betty wrapped her arms around her torso and squeezed, shrinking away towards the couch. Her eyes were filled with fear as she bent down to pick up the broken pieces of glass

“Okay. Okay, you’re right. I’m sorry. It’s my fault, I shouldn’t have talked to Kevin, it’s your grade and I shouldn’t have asked him to help you. I’m so sorry. I’ll clean it up.” Her words were rushed and she was hastily holding sharp pieces of glass.

He was such an asshole.

“Bets.” He started towards her, his voice soft and soothing as he bent down to take the broken pieces out of her hands

She stiffened
“it’s okay, I can clean it up. It’s okay” she repeated, slouching out of her boyfriends reach.

“Hey.. hey.. I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean that, I didn’t mean any of it. I’m sorry I yelled, I’m sorry I scared you.” His fingers gently stroked her cheek as she dropped the glass back onto the floor, looking up at him with defeated eyes.

“My mom. She gets like that with me sometimes too… I know.. I know I can be a lot to handle and I know that maybe I don’t always think..”

Jughead cut her off as he wrapped her in arms, clutching her shaking shoulders
“I’m an asshole. I’m the textbook definition of an asshole and I’m so sorry, I love you and I appreciate everything you do for me. I just.. I close myself off when someone tries to help me, I didn’t want Kevin feeling bad for me. I didn’t want him to think I was stupid for needing a tutor.”

Betty pulled away slightly, her arms still wrapped around her lower body
“I should have asked you. I should have checked with you first.

The dark haired boy shook his head
"No, you were being Betty Cooper, the girl I love more than anything in this world. There’s no excuse for the way I yelled at you. It won’t happen again, I promise.” He gently pried her arms free and she placed them around his neck, drawing her lips to his

“I shouldn’t be so sensitive.” She mumbled.

Jughead picked her up bridal style, smiling as she squealed

“I happen to like you sensitive Betty Cooper.”

He laughter trailed off as he closed the door to his bedroom.

They would be okay, they always were.

Lord of Thorns (Final Chapter)

This is our Last Chapter together, babes, thank you for coming along this crazy journey with me!
This Chapter starts out rough, but I promise it gets better.

Catch up on the ADDITIONAL CHAPTERS HERE

Thanks to everyone for reading and commenting and filling my ask box, I love my readers!!

**********************

“You loved him.” Harry said in disbelief, the gun hanging loosely from his hand. “He was hideous, soulless, literally the scary stories we tell the children, and you loved him. How could you love him and not me?”

“Why would you do this?” Peter asked, shaking his head in shock. “How could you– Harry why? Why? So what if I loved him? So what? We were happy here, by ourselves, and you ruined it. You ruined everything. Why? Because I don’t want you? Did you think killing my–my– did you think taking him from me would change my mind about you?”

“I was trying to rescue you.” Harry said, narrowing his eyes. “You should be thanking me. I can all this way to save you and you’re acting like a brat.”

Peter stared, just stared at him in complete disbelief. “No you weren’t trying to rescue me! You have this crazy idea that I’ll ever want you and I won’t!” His voice rose as he got angrier. “You weren’t here to rescue me! You were just being vengeful.” Peter snapped. “You think I should thank you? I should throw you over that balcony and let your body rot on the–”

He stopped talking abruptly when something like a windstorm swept through the room, the curtains blowing wildly, the lighter pieces of furniture shifting and sliding over the floors.

“What’s going on?” Harry asked nervously, and Peter wiped at his eyes.

“You pissed the castle off.” He said, and smiled just the tiniest bit. “You made them mad.”

“Made who mad?” Harry demanded.

The Master is gone.
Harry jerked back when the voices filled the room, their volume nearly to screeching.
The Prince is dead. You took him from us!
The intruder took our Prince!
You will die for this!

“What the fuck is going on?” Harry ducked, when the voices grew louder, seeming to swirl around him. The wind got stronger, louder, howling through the room. Books were being ripped off the shelves, drawers opening and closing on the dresser, the covers from the bed being jerked into the air and sent flying. “Pete what is this? What is this??”

“The castle is cursed, Harry.” Peter hunched his shoulders against the storm, watching Harry flailing his arms around, trying to push away the noise. The voices were screaming, cursing at Harry, and he backed away, but they followed, pushing him towards the balcony as he tried to get away. “And you pissed them off.”

“Pete make them stop!” Harry yelled. “Make them stop! Peter!”

You will die for this
Look away young master
He will die for this
You don’t want his death staining your soul
The Master needs your pure heart so we will do it
Look away look away
He will die for this and all he did to you
Look away

Keep reading

Dear Future Daughter:

1) When you’re at some party, chain smoking on the roof with some strange girl with blue hair and exorbitant large dark eyes, ask her about her day. I promise you, you won’t regret it. Often times you’ll find the strangest of people have the most captivating of stories to tell.

2) Please, never mistake desire for love. Love will engulf your soul, whilst desire will emerge as acid, slowly making it’s way through your veins, gradually burning you from the inside out.

3) No one is going to fucking save you, anything you’ve read or heard otherwise is bullshit.

4) One day a boy is going to come along who’s touch feels like fire and who’s words taste like vanilla, when he leaves you, you will want to die. If you know anything at all, know that it is only temporary.

5) Your mental health comes before school baby, always. If its midnight, and you have an exam the next day but your hands have been shaking for the past hour and a half and you’re not so sure you want to be alive anymore, pull out that carton of Ben and Jerry’s and afterwards, go the fuck to bed. So what if you get a 68% on the exam the next day? You took care of yourself and at the end of the day that will always come before a high test score. To hell with anyone who tells you differently

—  Abbie Nielsen

As per request, miraculous ladybug Cinderella style. I still really love the 2015 Cinderella and I had a great time drawing this. I really loved her dress and I decided to keep it very similar. I kept the butterflies because they reminded me of purified akumas, so I tried to vary them from a dark blackish red to the brilliant white one in her hair.

She didn’t have to speak to say that she had lost someone she loved.

You could see it in her dark circles, chapped lips, and messy hair.

You could see it in the way she stopped trying to take care of herself, and how she took on bad habits.

When she rolls around in her bed, sleepless, she makes sure to stay on her side of the bed

In case, he ever comes back.

—  excerpt from a book I’ll never write #32 // @loveactivist

You.
You are messy hair and shy smiles,
deep voice and drunk nights alone,
silenced thoughts and rushed words,
blurry lines and my new favourite song.

You are a satellite image of a city from high up above,
vast, but oh so beautiful.

You are made of starry winter skies and warm jumpers,
homemade candles and fairy lights,
unfinished art projects and splattered paint.

You are false hope, envy, blissful ignorance,
her love and not mine.
You are warmth and sunlight in a dark room,
laughter and butterflies in the pit of my stomach.

Me.
I think I’m in love with you.
Hope that’s okay.

—  carlinrose 
snippet from LoS 5/23/17

Snippet from Lord of Shadows - unexpected alliances…


Lord of Shadows

Kieran muttered something under his breath and said, “I will swear loyalty to Mark. I will do as he bids me do, and follow the Nephilim for his sake. And I shall argue with Prince Adaon for your cause, though it is his choice in the end.”

Something flickered in Julian’s eyes. “No,” he said. “You will not do this for Mark.”

Mark looked at his brother, startled; Kieran’s expression tensed. “Why not Mark?”

“Love complicates things,” said Julian. “An oath should be free of entanglements.”

Kieran looked as if he might explode. His hair had gone com- pletely black. With an angry look at Julian, he strode toward the Shadowhunters—and knelt in front of Cristina.

Everyone looked surprised, none more than Cristina. Kieran tossed his dark hair back and looked up at her, a challenge in his eyes. “I swear fealty to you, Lady of Roses.”

no promises

He needs her more than anything else, he needs to be close, to be touched and held. He needs nails grazing his skin and teeth dragging along his shoulder. Because he feels a little less like a machine, and a little more like a person when he’s with her. All despite her tenacious attempts to keep him distant from her.

Illuminate x Her series, Pt. I, Pt. II
Pairing: Shawn Mendes x Her 
Rating: Explicit
Words: 1751

They tumble through the hotel room door, his palm swiftly pushing it shut behind their entangled bodies. Her hands wander up his chest and her arms find their way around his neck, a need to be close dragging her to him. Their lips detach from one another’s during brief moments when they both push their jackets off their shoulders and take off their shoes in a hurry, and when he pulls her top over her head. Her fingers work fast to unbutton his shirt and remove it from his body while his hands move to cup her bottom. 

Keep reading

8

dark willow + seven devils by florence and the machine for @mylittleshipperhart

They can keep me out
‘Til I tear the walls
'Til I save your heart
And to take your soul
For what has been done
Cannot be undone
In the evil’s heart
In the evil’s soul

her colors are muted and she looks tired.
‘holding up,’ she says,
and i’m just holding up too but god, this contrast;
light and dark,
soft and bold,
melancholy and anger,
beauty and the furthest thing from it.
she is unsettling, yet…
not in a bad way.
not at all.

and she is lovely.
her eyes are gentle,
blue like twilight
(and i understand for the first time why
they’re supposed to be the windows to the soul).
her hair is not spun gold
and she doesn’t shine like the sun;
she is the moon in all its glory.
the kind of light she carries cannot be explained–
it’s in her bones and the way she walks,
and the way she speaks.
soft,
like she doesn’t want to be seen or heard.

but she is beautiful.

god built the universe
with a voice like that.

—  when a girl loves a girl the stars fall to the earth.
2

“The sun was out for once, and Inej had turned her face to it. Her eyes were shut, her oil-black lashes fanned out over her cheeks. The harbor wind had lifted her dark hair and for a moment Kaz was a boy again, sure there was magic in this world.“

i love this book, these characters, the story - so much. thank you leigh.

2

Something Just Like This ~Jeff Atkins x Reader~

Requested: Can I request a Jeff Atkins imagine about morning after with him. And like Jeff would be so cute whispering sweet nothings in his gfs ear while also saying some dirty jokes lolol omg I CANT

The human body contains an innumerable amount of nerve cells. The best we can do is estimate that there are some billion. It is incredible how there are billions of nerve cells working in our bodies and something as simple as the touch of one person can send all of those imperceptible cells into a fervor.

It’s 9:05 on a Sunday morning. The window is slightly cracked, letting the fresh autumn air circulate in. Her chest rises and falls rhythmically with shallow breaths as she pretends to still be sleeping. Small circles are being drawn on her back, clockwise, then counter clockwise. Then it switches to a word, or rather, a name. Jeff.

His fingers drag across her skin gently. First he writes it how you would normally write your name. Then in cursive, in all caps, capitalizing every other letter, looping letters, block letters.

“Are you marking me?” she mumbles tiredly. She can feel him laughing as he wraps his arms around her midsection, pulling her flush against his chest. He kisses the top of her head, nuzzling his face into her hair where traces of his cologne are trapped within the tresses. He’s everywhere. In her hair, on her skin, and where he doesn’t leave a physical presence he takes up residence in the place where her mind wanders.

“In more ways than one,” a smug tone drips off his tongue as he brings his one hand up to grasp her throat loosely, his thumb rubbing one of many dark purple splotches.

“Jeffff,” she whines, scrunching her neck up. Those are gonna be a bitch to cover up, but he loves them. He loves the way they whisper I was here. I will be here for as long as you want me. I love you. I love you.

“I didn’t hear you complaining last night,” he whispers into her ear, letting his lips linger. A shiver works its way down her back involuntarily. It’s almost annoying- how easily he gets to her. Just the sound of his voice is enough to set her skin on fire.

“You’re awful,” she tries to sound stern, but there’s a teasing tone in her voice that gives her away. It’s hard to be annoyed when images of the previous night and all the nights before that flood her mind.

“Yeah?” he questions, an impish inflection shaping his voice, “tell me, which part was less than satisfactory?”

He cups the bottom of her jaw with his palm and pushes upward gently, stretching her neck without causing pain. The bed jostles as his weight shifts to lean over her, his lips ghosting over the thin skin of her neck. It starts with soft pecks that progress to biting and sucking until the unblemished skin becomes a dark shade of red and purple. “Was it this?” he asks against her skin.

His hands grip her bare thighs, wrapping them around his waist. His fingers drag down from the top of her thighs down to the bend of her knees and then back up. Instinctively, her arms lock around his neck, bringing his forehead to rest against hers. “Was it this?” he asks against her lips.

“Oh hush. You’re perfect and you know it,” her voice is breathy as she tries to swallow her own desire. He is perfect, in every sense of the word. He has the kindest heart she has ever known.

“Perfect enough to make you happy?” he says earnestly. He lifts his head to be able to see her face clearly and wholly. Her cheeks have developed a pink tint and her eyes are soft and dreamlike, like she’s looking at the gates of heaven.

“Perfect or imperfect, I am happy,” she grabs his face between her hands delicately, “I’m happy and I love you.”

“Say it again,” he begs as his eyes flutter shut.

“I love you, Jeff Atkins.”

And then he’s kissing her. His lips are familiar but the feeling of them on hers makes her heart race like it’s the first time all over again. His body presses down against hers and she can feel every bump of hard muscle under soft skin. The distance between them is virtually nonexistent. Her heart hangs suspended in the space where she ends and he begins.

“You know,” she says in-between kisses, “this is why the morning after always turns into round two.”

“Sorry babe, I’ll work on keeping my hands to myself,” he laughs, burying his face into her neck.

“That was not a complaint, you keep your hands right where they are,” she returns his laugh whilst running her fingers through his hair.

“Yes ma’am,” he kisses her jaw, “I love you. I adore you with all my heart.”

“That makes me pretty lucky.”

“Luck has nothing to do with it,” he assures, “but speaking of being ‘lucky’, how ‘bout that round two?”

“You’re relentless,” she giggles pleasantly, pulling him closer.

“Tell me you don’t want me and I’ll stop.”

“Well that would make me a liar,” this time she kisses him, initiating an evocative situation. He responds immediately, his hands tangling in the thin lacy fabric covering her bottom half.

To be adored by a person with such a pure heart is to be loved absolutely. Few ever meet a person like that, but when they do it is significant. It marks a before and after in their life, and how lucky they are to have been loved by a person who knows what it means to love without limit. How lucky they are to have something just like this.


Masterlist

Gifs (X) (X)

4

an old oc that finally gets to see the light 💁!

she: loves lizards (and also owns 2 named Basil & Thyme), is a space enthusiast, has a prominent dimple on her left cheek, collects jacket patches and is overall just a terribly charming (and Gay) gal

Legends of Smoak: Felicity’s masked debut

The QUEEN was on Legends last night making her masked debut. Honestly… it was AWESOME. There were so many little details the Legends writers put in that I loved.

Total badass since always. I loved that she used tech. I think those were Curtis’ T-spheres, but I can’t be sure. 

“Bimbo brigade” hehehe. That was funny. My girl is hilarious in any situation.

The dark hair was ON POINT and Felicity lowered her voice like Oliver does. She was also wearing his hood.

Keep reading

“Precious Moments” - Digital Oil Painting

This is my latest completed commission for @whitesheepcbd, based on a moment from her story “Precious Moments.” She asked for Rumple and Belle snuggled up with baby Gideon and I love how it turned out. It was a challenge to get the messier hair to look right, plus getting the ‘nighttime’ colors right without it getting too dark, so I put in some moonlight coming through blinds to highlight some areas. I hope you like it!

If you enjoy my art, please consider subscribing to my Patreon! I am saving to buy a wheelchair lift.

High for This

High for This by evansrogerskitten

Dean x Reader x Sam, John x Reader

A witch’s curse hexes the three Winchester men and reader, leading to a night of desire that would change things forever.

Warnings: Explicit, Smut, Voyeurism, Anal Sex, Oral Sex, Threesome (NO Wincest), Fingering, Language, Dom!John, discussion of being high, dirty talk, orgasm denial, squirting, spanking, mention of a panic attack, Feels, A lil fluff, lack of protection, canon divergence. To be clear- the characters have all consented to all sexual acts in this story. 

Word Count: 8408 | On AO3 | This is inspired by the song High for This by The Weeknd, and my first song for @mrs-squirrel-chester Album Fanficfion Challenge. 

This fic had a mind of its own but I love it. I hope you do too :)


The Impala rolled into a parking space on the street and Sam killed the engine. I straightened the sleeves of my navy fed suit, and looked over at him.

“You really think she’s going to know anything?” Sam pestered, looking through the window.

“Witnesses said two of the victims had been here to see her for readings.” I responded, climbing out of the car. I patted my jacket pocket to make sure I still had my fake FBI badge. “She does readings on love and relationships.”

Sam rolled his eyes as we walked up the sidewalk to the old house.

“What if she’s really psychic then? She’ll know we’re hunters.” Sam suggested sarcastically as he looked over his shoulder to the street.

“Then we’ll improvise. It’ll be fine, Sam.” I responded, looking around the front porch. A bright Psychic Reader sign lit up the front window.

Keep reading

2 March, 2017

I was afraid to be happy. Genuinely afraid—

that I’d look back upon my present grin and see nothing but complacency and settlement; that the unforgivably significant small moments I’d been holding on to so dearly would reveal themselves to be nothing but guises; that what I was experiencing was not happiness at all, but rather a deliberately placed shield, by my own hand, in an effort to avoid the inevitable conclusion that I’m…well, that I’m not happy.

But then again, I have to ask: what makes this any more real? Sitting in Caitlin’s apartment kitchen, looking out the window to the first piece of blue sky I’ve seen in a week, feeling the island work itself into my complex sensory—what makes this genuine and the former not? Because I’m tempted to say that it’s all relative, that happiness isn’t some blanket statement applying equally to all that seek it. Because wasn’t I happy then? Walking into work, seeing her sweater vest of the day and long dark hair, feeling a jump in my step; practicing solitary life, then rejoicing when I found love again; acting so genuinely as myself that it ceased feeling like myself? Because I feel genuine in saying that this isn’t any more me than the me that typically exists…I’ve just faced more resistance, more questioning, cursory looks at who I am, that I’m forced to wear it proudly.

Then, I fear, I was so deeply comfortable that I forgot when to fight.

But I am not the product of segmented thrill, moments tediously chosen to drag me through those less than. I am not the thoughts that I think, the people I meet, or the places I am. If I believe in anything, it’s that what’s to come will always be greater simply because I understand what I didn’t before: that I will never reach static gratitude, nor love, nor simplicity, but will eternally oscillate between.

So, it’s clear to say, I’m not sure who I’ll be when I return. I don’t know how I’ll be with others in the way I did, so confident with love and direction. How can I look into the faces of those I’ve broken myself for and feel that they still deserve? How can I love, genuinely, knowing they’ve disregarded my heart?

And, most pressing, what do you do when complacency falls out of step, and real love falls in?

I may be wrong, but I think I’m about to find out.

J.S.


Location: Waipio Valley, Island of Hawaii
Instagram: plvntstrong

9

The Romanov women who were celebrated as great beauties in their day:

Empress Elizaveta I Petrovna (1709-1762)

“She is a beauty the like of which I have never seen … an amazing complexion, glowing eyes, a perfect mouth, a throat and bosom of rare whiteness. She is tall in stature, and her temperament is very lively. One senses in her a great deal of intelligence and affability, but also a certain ambition.”


Empress Elizaveta Alexeievna (1779-1826)

“Her features were fine and even, and her face a perfect oval; her beautiful complexion was not high in colour but its delicacy was totally in keeping with her expression, one of angelic sweetness. Her fair ash coloured hair floated about her neck and forehead. She was dressed in a simple white tunic, gathered by a belt knotted simply around a waist slender as a nymph´s. This young woman appeared exactly as I have described her, standing against the backdrop of an appartment ornamented with classical columns and draped in pink and silver gauze; she looked so ravishing I cried out, “Psyche!” It was in fact Princess Elisabeth, wife of Alexander.” 


Empress Alexandra Fyodorovna (1798-1860)

“The Empress is a tall graceful figure … her little head beautifully set and her expression pleasing and features regular, her hands and arms beautifully shaped and an air of imperial dignity and grace I never saw before. Her dress was perfect - simple and of dazzling whiteness, with a necklace, fringe, drops, etc. that I can only compare to dark blue glass eggs for never did I see their like.”


Grand Duchess Olga Nikolaevna (1822-1892)

“The Grand Duchess Olga, the second of the emperor´s daughter, has no rival in beauty among the Princesses of Europe, an in this instance, flattery, in asserting her to be the loveliest girl in her father´s dominion, scarcely outstrips the truth.”

Grand Duchess Alexandra Iosifovna (1830-1911)

[Alexandra] loved the Russian extravangance and magnificence, which was entirely in keeping with her extraordinary beauty, her marvelous hair in particular. A few considred that she resembled Mary Stuart, Queen of Scots, whose style of dress Sanny copied. All of Europe spoke of her astonishing jewels, of her pearl necklace, in which each pearl was the size of a nut. … [She] always took a passionate interest in anything which related to the beauty of other women. With typical feminine jealousy she would ask: “Who is the more beautiful, the Empress of Austria or I?” The Empress´s beauty was much praised, and the Grand Duchess Konstantin worried: “Is my hair as fine as the Empress´s? Don´t you think we have the same figure?”


Grand Duchess Elizaveta Fyodorovna (1864-1918)

“I like Ella very, very much. She is so feminine; her beauty is something I will never tire of. Her eyes are extraordinarily beautifully defined and her look is so calm and gentle. Despite her gentle nature and her shyness, one sense in her a certain self-assurance, a recognition of her own strength … [Her husband] was talking to me about his wife and he was enraptured by her, full of her praises.”

Princess Irina Alexandrovna (1895-1970):

“One day when I was out riding I met a very beautiful girl accompanied by an elderly lady. Our eyes met and she made such an impression on me that I reined in my horse to gaze at her as she walked on … [Another time] I had plenty of time to admire the wondrous beauty of the girl who was eventually to become my wife and lifelong companion. She had beautiful features, clear-cut as a cameo, and looked very like her father." 


Grand Duchess Tatiana Nikolaevna (1897-1918)

“She’s a grand princess from head to toe, so aristocratic and regal. Her face is pale matte, only the cheeks are slightly rosy, as if pink satin is trying to escape from just under her thin skin. Her profile is flawlessly beautiful, as if cut from marble by a great artist.  The widely set eyes provide uniqueness and originality to her face.”


Grand Duchess Maria Nikolaevna (1899-1918)

“Maria Nikolaevna can easily be called a Russian beauty. Tall, healthy, with sable eyebrows and a bright blush on her open Russian face, she is especially lovely to a Russian heart. You look at her and involuntarily imagine her dressed in the Russian boyar’s sarafan; snowy muslin sleeves around her hands; on the highly decorated bodice semi-precious stone; and above her white brow, a kokoshnik with the traditional pearls. Her eyes illuminate her entire face by a unique, radiant luster; they sometimes seem black as long eyelashes throw shadows over the bright blush of her soft cheeks.”